


True Virtue

by marajadechase



Category: Original Work
Genre: Action/Adventure, Amnesia, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Gun Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Character Death, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Superpowers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-05
Updated: 2019-08-03
Packaged: 2019-11-12 17:01:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18014825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marajadechase/pseuds/marajadechase
Summary: When Amara wakes from a nightmare to a bustling city and no memory she soon discovers she is part of a conspiracy and a fight to save the world.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I found this old story of mine (my first and only) that I had posted to fictionpress when I was younger. It's partially written but not finished so I thought I'd polish it up and try posting it again. Please let me know if its worth continuing! ^^
> 
> I literally just went through the old chapter and changed some stuff on my phone through Google Docs. Any mistakes are my own.
> 
> I'm a teacher so I'll try to find time to write and update inbetween grading.

**Chapter 1**

The world was white. A bright, blinding, unforgiving white. The girl looked down and was relieved to find that she was not white as well. Her skin was bronze and her glossy, black plaited hair reached halfway down her back.

The door to the tiny room she occupied opened and she shrank back, crying out as to men dragged her out into the white halls and to a larger room. A single white chair stood in the middle of the stark room. They shoved her into the chair and its metal bands clamped down and locked her in. She screamed, desperate to be loosed.

"Now dear," came a soothing voice. "Let's not have any of that." A beautiful black woman walked into the room, her dark brown eyes sparkling in the harsh light. In the background the voices began, like a familiar chant that was only half remembered.

 _Kaida_. The name floated up to the top of the girl’s consciousness. She was a charmer, a powerful enchantress, and the thought only made the girl fight harder. Fear made her stomach ice cold and something began to bubble up from within her. She screamed...

The girl awoke with a start. She looked around wildly, realizing she was in a normal city on a bench in a bus stop on a busy street. She allowed herself a small smile at the thought of such a bustling metropolis. She’d always loved the feeling of weaving through a pulsing city, throngs of people all moving with a purpose. Big cities promised bright lights, pretty sights, and opportunity and she knew somehow that she had always felt a freedom in being able to lose herself in such a big and populated place. Her smile faded suddenly as she remembered her dream. “It felt so real.” She muttered as she grabbed at her braided hair. Quickly she undid the twists and allowed her curly locks to fly free as she slipped the hair tie on her wrist.

A truck thundered past and blared its horn and she jumped. She stood shakily, her muscles stiff from a night of sleeping on the bench. She just wanted out of the obnoxiously clean— _how was it even possible for a public space to be this spotless?_ —and confined place. It was too...transparent.

She squeezed out of the door and walked out onto the sidewalk. The day was a bit drizzly and windy with people shuffling here and there on their early morning business with umbrellas perched above their heads. The young woman scrunched up her nose and glanced around her at the city. The longer she tried to place where the tall buildings that rose up around her the less she was sure of where she had been. Her clothes were white, like in her dream. Had that been real? It had felt so…She cut off abruptly with a noise of surprise. Lost in her thoughts, she had continued walking and tripped over the curb, flailing head first into the path of an incoming garbage truck.

Some woman who had witnessed her fall screamed as she fell forward, most likely certain she was about to be crushed.

The scream tore through her and made her feel more than a little off balanced but the girl's mind was working a mile a second. _Stabilize_ , she ordered herself. _Spread feet gives you better balance._ She desperately stuck a hand out and kicked off as she rotated forward. She ended up flipping forward past the truck’s path and into the next lane. The blaring of a horn warned her another car was coming and before she knew it her hand came up and she was thrown backward while the taxi skidded to the left, away from her, before coming to a stop. She whirled and raced back in front of the next incoming car to reach the sidewalk.

"Did you see that...girl fell…taxi… _pushed_..." She was attracting an unwanted crowd, she turned and pushed her way through the throng of people. She looked for a nice, crowded place she could go to blend in with the masses.

That fall, what she'd done...The young woman stared down at her hands as if they had betrayed her before stuffing them violently in her pockets as she weaved through the afternoon crowd. _What just happened?_ She asked herself. And that question was enough to open the floodgates to the tons of other questions that had been pushing at the back of her mind. She looked around at the city again, crossing the street towards a large grocery store. The big, bright letters shimmered in the rain: _Aldi’s_. The name made no real impression on her and she wondered what she was that she could so easily move a speeding car but could not even recognize a store chain. Suddenly the crowds she had sought solace in turned into a crushing weight. The people surged around her with their swirls of emotions, each stepping with purpose, with a direction in mind.

She stared up at the store’s automatic door. She wanted off the street, away from all these people. Her hands found a way into her hair, tugging nervously at the curls until they were tucked back in messy ponytail. She stepped forward, about to enter when, "Amara?" A voice called cautiously from behind her.

 _Amara?_ She froze. That name was familiar. _Was that her?_ Something clicked in her brain and a small pulse of pain started behind her eyes. The girl, Amara, spun and adrenaline shot through her as she took off in the opposite direction. _Fight or flight, that's what this state was called wasn't it?_ The useless fact bounced through her mind as she tore down the street. She didn’t really understand her immediate reaction but all she knew was that she wanted to get away.

"Wait!" The voice came again, a little quieter but much closer. It was British and male and the sound of it sent tingles through Amara's dormant memory, which really did nothing but add to the headache she was getting. "Amara! It's me-"

She put on a burst of speed and left his voice behind. That voice reminded her of _something_ and that something, whatever it was, terrified her.

She ran on, adrenaline spiking through her body, and soon enough she was leaving the city limits, moving across a bridge to the woods beyond. _What on Earth had possessed her to leave the safety of a public space?_ She stopped, bent over as she tried to catch her breath, and hid behind a tree, hazarding a look behind her. Satisfied that she'd lost her pursuer she turned to start off again, wondering how she'd find her way back to the city before nightfall. _Hijo de... If only you’d paid even a little bit of attention to anything since you woke up…_ She didn’t have a single idea what she would do once she found her way back but…at least it wouldn’t feel as lonely as the woods.

"Easy." The voice said into her ear, hands encircled her waist. "It's okay, calm down."

Amara bucked and kicked, trying to get free. The young woman’s arms were trapped which kept her elbows from being any help. Instead, she threw her head back to try and hit his face but he managed to both dodge the blow and hang onto her. She was partially grateful; the impact would’ve hurt him but also served to aggravate her ever-growing headache.

Slowly she was turned around until she was facing the young man who'd been chasing her, his hands firmly gripping her shoulders, his face inches from hers, "Mara?" he asked, "Are you okay?"

She stared at him, he was tall and looked normal enough: tan skin, wavy dark hair, dressed in jeans and a dark denim over a gray t-shirt. There was a small scar through his left eyebrow. He looked young, in his twenties. Amara decided he _probably_ wasn’t a serial killer or a crazy person.

He knew her name, had chased her all the way out here. Was he supposed to be important to her? Amara’s headache grew as her mind refused to access the information she was looking for; only vague impressions came now: there was something...

His smile turned to a frown as he scratched at his five o’clock shadow. A lock of black hair fell into pale green eyes. "I know that you might be upset but I thought..." He trailed off and continued to study her. His eyes began to harden.

Amara continued to stare, her chest heaving and her mind full of incomplete thoughts and spiraling emotions. She crinkled her eyebrows as the headache pulsed behind her eyes and she squinted, absentmindedly rubbing at her forehead to relieve it. "I'm sorry," she said, trying to twist out of his grasp. "I-I can't, I mean-" she stammered. The man stared critically at her while she tried to collect herself: one part concerned, two parts dubious. _He_ understood what was going on and wanted to gauge what she knew, if she even knew anything.

Amara hated him for it.

Quietly he appraised her, "You're nervous." It was more of a statement than a question.

It was true, Amara could feel her apprehension and the other's worry. _Worry? Worried about what? He wasn’t the one being chased. He wasn’t the one trapped in this freaking nightmare_ , "Well, wouldn't you be if you were in my position?" She mouthed off as she tried to break his grip. He was bigger than her and decently strong but she was determined. Maybe she could make the taxi thing happen again.

His cobalt eyes narrowed but he also obligingly released her shoulders. "Were you fully incepted?" He asked suddenly, "What are you doing out of the Academy?"

The pain in Amara's head spiked. The Academy, that was important..."Please," she reached for her splitting head, "I don't understand what-" She turned to the side and dry heaved. Her stomach spasmed one last time and then Amara felt the boy grab her again as she spiraled into darkness.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amara comes to and meets a a new group of people in the woods.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please keep in mind that I am an American who is writing about international teens. Hopefully I don't offend anyone!   
> I am half latina but my Spanish is not perfect. Feel free to correct me if necessary :)

**Chapter 2**

The world before her was black and Amara was suspended in the inky abyss, dreaming in snippets. Visions and threads of remembrance flashed through her mind but were always gone before she'd fully gotten a grip on them:

**_"Something's wrong here Amara. The Academy-" The young man's voice._ **

**_"Just relax dear, focus your mind and listen to the voices, let them direct you." It was that woman from her earlier dream, Kaida._ **

**_A fireball racing to the sky, bright red and orange against a clear blue sky. An explosion she'd caused._ **

Amara blinked her eyes open. Greens and browns blurred her vision and the young woman momentarily relaxed at the blissful chaos of nature. However, her thoughts were fuzzy, what had happened? _How had she ended up in this clearing?_

There was a rustle in the leaves nearby and she snapped up, body going rigid. Mentally she kicked herself, if there _was_ someone out there watching her she had blown any chance of surprise by bolting upright like that.

Her hands clenched, knuckles white with tension, Amara tried to reason out what she was so afraid of. Unconsciously she shifted into a crouch. _Balancing on the balls of your feet gives you mobility, then you can move in any direction as quickly as possible._ The detail floated to the top of her brain. _Why did she know that?_

Her train of thought broke off as someone emerged from the cover of the tree line. It was a girl, a teenager with rich chocolate curls and striking amethyst eyes, “Hey, Amara.” Her voice was soft, coy, definitely French. “Long time no see, yes?”

Amara, in turn, stared blankly, “I…suppose.” her right hand curled against her thigh as if she was searching for something. The amnesiac stood, standing made her feel better, put her at eye level with this new person.

Lightly the girl moved forward towards her, body language screaming caution, “Amara, it’s me, Sofra.”

This wasn’t like the time in the woods with the young man, which had left her confused and frustrated, Sofra’s presence set off an _ache_ inside her that she couldn’t quite understand.

“Did they hurt you Mara? Are any of them here?” The newcomer glanced around at the trees and Amara saw that her side swept curly bob hid a buzzed haircut on her right side.

Amara circled right, keeping space in between the two of them, “What is it with people in this forest? I can’t run across a simple hiker?”

“So, you did meet them out here.” Sofra obliged and circled opposite her.

Amara risked taking her eyes off her to glance down and rub the bridge of her nose, “I don’t know who ‘them’ is, I don’t know who you are.” Amara didn’t recall much but she was quickly learning that she did not enjoy how the only two people she had had any interaction with seemed to be trying to crack her open and see what’s inside.

Amara desperately wanted to look at the world around her and _know_ it. But then she thought back on what she _did_ remember, the nightmare from the bus stop, the pain of her headache in the forest, and the ache that she felt when she first laid eyes on this girl and suddenly Amara was unsure if she should want to remember.

Sofra’s eyebrow quirked as she clocked Amara’s telegraphed movements, “You should not run _mon amie_ , trust me you will be hunted down if you do. You have nowhere to escape to and in the confused state you are in you will be easy to find.” There was a heavy sigh, “We’re different, you and I, all of us really. Some people are not willing to let that go.”

“Different?”

Sofra moved forward, coming to rest beside her, “Special, if you will. Those others you came across? They’re special too but they are…how you say? Anarchy. This makes them dangerous.”

Amara didn't doubt that the boy from earlier was dangerous (she'd passed out in his arms and he'd drug her further into the woods, if that wasn't a warning sign Amara didn't know what was) but that didn't mean she _had_ to trust Sofra either.

Which was good because, _Dios ayudala_ , she most certainly did not.

Sofra continued on in response to Amara’s silence, “I see that you do not…appreciate the gravity of this situation. Let me show you a little something.” She threw out a quick gesture motioning that Amara should cover her ears.

_Cover her ears? Why—?_

Sofra’s eyes began to glow. Her irises lit up as if the purple within them was suddenly brought into sharp definition. Then Sofra turned to the edge of the clearing that she had emerged from, opened her mouth, and _screamed_.

A high pitched sonic sound ripped through the air, bark and branches were torn off trees and a ragged path of destruction was cut through the grass and soft earth.

After a couple of seconds—which felt like an eternity to Amara—Sofra stopped.

“Oh my—”

“Impressive, no?” Her smirk was knowing, a bit smug, “I need you to recognize that there is a group of teenagers and young adults that were given powers. These powers are called virtues because they are a gift that we can use to make the world better. When we use this gift,” She gestured absently to her face, “it is shown in our eyes, the more power exerted, the brighter we shine. I’m sure you noticed that during my little show? We are special,” She iterated again, “you and I, those you met before. We are being trained to control this strength, why would someone try to leave that environment?”

Some rational part of her mind was begging her to cut her loses, find a way out of this ~~clearly dangerous~~ situation but a bigger part of her wanted to sate her morbid curiosity. She put a hand to her chest, that ache was back.

Eyes rolled skyward, Amara prayed that she wasn't about to get herself killed, “What…what do you want from me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Criticism and reviews are welcome!
> 
> Translation:  
> Dios ayudala: God help her


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

The forest was awash with the purples, oranges, and pinks of a brilliant sunset.

Sofra had her hiking through the woods to the moor beyond it, which was less taxing than Amara imagined it should be. New fact, Amara told herself as she walked, turns out I'm definitely in shape. There had been two others in the woods with Sofra apparently, searching the woods while the French girl was chatting her up. There was a Hispanic girl named Abril and a Brit named Rowan. Abril smiled and was cordial enough while Rowan fixed her with a look she couldn’t describe—resentment maybe? —but immediately hated.

“Alright kids,” Sofra declared, despite most likely being the youngest of the group. They had reached the rolling moor. She gestured to a lone vehicle, parked near some foliage under a camo tarp, “everyone in.”

Night had descended by the time Rowan started the top down, banged up old Jeep. A light mist drifted on the green hills but the car’s brights cut through it well enough.

That was a good thing because Rowan was driving like a maniac.

“Hey!” Amara yelped, eyes wide as they reached 120 mph. She ignored the way the adrenaline rush got her heart pumping, how she loved the air rushing past her face, thoughts like that wouldn’t help extend her lifetime. “What are you doing?”

“Got a call as we were getting into the vehicle.” Rowan muttered as he focused on the road.

“Our people, they are under attack.” Abril added from the backseat, “We would like to return as fast as possible to aid them if we can.”

Abril’s accent was thicker than the others, her Spanish inflection stirring up something incredibly familiar…

Amara’s train of thought violently derailed when a blazing trail of flame shot across the winding road twenty feet in front of them. Rowan slammed on the brakes and spun the car to the left, drifting to a stop before the vehicle was engulfed in the blaze. Amara and Sofra’s side of the Jeep were closest to the inferno and Amara could feel the heat licking at her skin.

The fire died down as abruptly as is sprang up. Trails of smoke rolled lazily through the moonlit moor. Behind the haze stood a petite woman with copper hair and murder in her still glowing eyes. The young woman (Amara estimated she was the oldest person she's seen yet, somewhere in her early twenties) had a small beauty mark dotted on the left side of her mouth, it made her look like she was perpetually smirking in the moonlight. She was wearing a baggy slate teal dress jacket over a loose grey spaghetti strap top and dark wash skinny jeans, which Amara thought was a stylish but useless outfit to wear when there’s to be fire and fighting—and it seemed like those two things were very likely to be centerstage—but to each their own.

“Hello!” She called with a jaunty wave. “Now that I have your attention I’d like to have a word with you.” Amara noted that she was most definitely Scottish.

Sofra languidly climbed from the Jeep. “Ember.” The French girl seemed less phased by the fire than Amara. If anything, she sounded bored, “What a fresh and horrible betrayal. Does Headmistress know?”

“Of course, she sent Dakota to rip out my throat the second she realized. Such a lovely woman.”

“And where are the rest of your merry band?”

Ember brushed her hands together and made a show of ignoring Sofra’s question. “Now that I have my freedom, there’s something else I want.”

Rowan gave a heavy sigh as he and Abril exited the Jeep, “And what would that be, Darling?” He towered over Ember but the smaller woman refused to back down.

Instead her sharp green gaze pierced through Amara, “My friend there. I want her back.”

“Oh!” Amara snarked to herself in an effort to calm her racing pulse. This woman had just set the grass on fire after all. “Great, I'm involved in this too.” She slipped from the vehicle to stand between the two sides, where the flames had been. The woman, Ember, stood in front of her while Sofra, Abril, and Rowan formed a semi-circle at her back.

Ember’s eyes softened as they took her in and she took a few steps forward. “Alright there, Mara?”

The only person, it seemed, that didn’t know Amara was Amara herself, “I’m…fine.”

“That’s good.” There was a gust of air as the man from the woods skidded to a stop next to Ember, the longer hairs on top of his head mussed from the wind. The unnatural, glowing power in his eyes was slowly fading away. “You had us worried.”

“Damien.” Came a muttered response from behind her.

New facts: The man from the woods was named Damien. Damien has superspeed. 

“Rowan!” Damien acknowledged with a cold smile. “Did you know that cheetahs can run up to 75 mph in short bursts?” Amara did not understand the relevance, “You learn something new every day!”

“And where are the rest?” Sofra demanded. “I know you have a flair for the dramatic Damien but currently I am low on my patience.”

“Give the files you stole back.” Abril added. Amara clocked the sound of a gun being drawn, “I do not wish to ask again.”  
“Woah, let’s not get too hasty!” Another boy came out from behind Ember and Damien, amber eyes wide and long brown hair tousled in the wind. Behind him Amara saw the idling sedan that he'd driven up in. A 9mm Beretta—and since when did Amara recognize guns on sight? —was held tightly in his left hand. He’s afraid. Amara thought, “I may not have sworn the Hippocratic oath but that doesn’t mean I enjoy hurting people.”  
Amara noted the pair of glasses perched on his head, his American accent. Finally, a non-European like her. How messed up was this situation that she gleaned comfort from an American with a gun?

“Then drop the gun, Blake.” Rowan spat, “Otherwise, someone will most definitely be hurt.”

“Good job my team’s bigger and better than yours then.” Damien called, “Listen, I know you’re stalling, waiting for backup, trying to make sure we don’t escape but honestly I’m tired. You all should realize that Cadence has you in her sights. Now, we need your vehicle and that girl right there.” He added, pointing at Amara.

“We need you to come with us, Mara.” Ember’s voice was soft and lilting, apologetic.

“Do I have a choice?” Amara whispered back. Her hands unconsciously caught at her hair, taking a piece over her right shoulder to twist and untwist as her gaze darted around the moor. Things just kept escalating further beyond her control and Amara's brain was having a hard time catching up. If only she could have some time to just pause and think.

Damien gave a quick shake of his head, ran his hand through his straying black locks, “You may not be sure what’s going on but I refuse to leave you in the hands of Kaida and her Academy.”  
The names sent a spike ramming through her skull. A woman’s face floated to the top, the one from her dream. It was ironic—and Amara couldn’t help but choke out a bitter laugh as she stood clutching her head—that those two names held such power over her. She couldn’t remember her life, couldn’t remember her age, had to be told her own name but this woman’s face and that sterile hallway were burned into her freaking memory.

Suddenly a thought shot through her. Her body tingled and went numb like she'd been struck by lightning: she didn’t want this! She didn’t want to remember!

There was a scream ringing in her ears. She only realized it was hers when she had to stop to take a breath. It was hard to breathe, she realized, like Ember’s flames had sucked all the air from the moor. The mist and the lingering smoke were oppressive, clouding her vision until all she could see was white. She didn’t care about these warring factions, didn’t care about who was right or wrong. In that moment, she wanted out!

“Amara!” A vaguely familiar voice, French, “C-calm down…you idiot!”

“Get away!” She turned to the voice and reached out to shove the offending presence aside. Something surged out and the voice was flung, screaming, from her. “I didn’t want this!” She demanded. “It wasn’t my fault..it’s not my fault...” Vaguely she worried why she felt so detached from the rawness of her voice. Her head was floating, carried away on shallow breaths and the remnants of her dream.

“Hey, hey, hey, you need to breathe. Amara! Amara we’re all panicking!” A desperate voice, a hand on her shoulder.  
This time she turned and lashed out with a fist. When that didn’t work she followed it up with a few kicks, each one getting weaker than the last. Her oxygen levels were not going to support her energy output for much longer.

Someone grabbed her hands, started dragging her towards the car. She struggled anew, “No! Get—” The hands abruptly stopped and she lurched backwards with the force of her pull.

“Damien, you can’t…I know...a timeline…help her!” It was the American voice, the one with a gun. He sounded very far away. “Mara?...hear me?”

Black spots warred with the white crowding her vision and for the second time that day Amara gave in to the dark.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

A silver Newton’s Cradle ticked back and forth and Kaida worked to match her steps to its rhythm. The Newton’s Cradle was soothing: polished, shining, all smooth edges and unyielding steel. Physics was amazing, one force pushed and the other pushed back.

Slowly she paced her office-- _ tick...tock _ \--in time with the Cradle. Her office was a resplendent place, boasting the deep mahogany and navy plush carpet befitting her position as headmistress. Sometimes she found her surroundings distracting, there was too much wood, books, leather to clean, too much to keep in  _ order _ .

She felt off-balance and it seemed like nothing had gone to plan. Kaida stopped pacing for a moment in order to face the display case that stood on the wall to the left of her desk. As she stared she let her eyes unfocus from the artifacts within so that she could see her reflection. Carefully she reorganized her braids. They didn’t always stay in place since they fell past her shoulders but she knew the importance of arranging them, keeping them neat.

Once she had them perfect she ran a finger over a braid that hung near her face, admired the smooth texture beneath her hand. This is why she loved having her hair like this, the idea of twisted hair within a sleek braid.  _ Normally it’s the calm within the storm but she loved the idea of a storm within calm. _ That’s what she was: a force of nature, a hurricane wrapped in calm efficiency.

She squared her shoulders and began to pace again, in time to the beat of her Cradle. Everything had its place, its  _ order _ , and she was going to see this through.

____________________

 

Amara felt an incessant prodding. It wasn’t rapid fire but something—someone? —was tapping at her face, “Please Mama,” She breathed, “cinco minutos mas.”

The was a sad little chuckle from somewhere above her. “This just in, she is  _ not _ broken.”

Amara’s eyes snapped open at the sound of a new voice (male, vibrant, with the high-pitched tones of those who have not quite finished puberty) and all other thoughts left her head. She forgot the words she had slurred out seconds ago, couldn’t  _ remember _ where she was or why…

“No, no, no, no, no, not again, not again!” Someone was whispering, pleading.

“Amara!” Her vision was filled with a familiar face. Damien stared at her with wide blue eyes, his face was taut with panic, “Calm down! Freakin’  _ breathe _ , yeah?”

With a start, she realized that the mystery voice was hers. She clicked her jaw shut and bit her cheek to force herself to just  _ shut up _ . She tried to follow his advice, to focus and remember what had happened but she couldn’t. She balled her hands into fists before stretching her fingers out again. Then her hands caught at her hair, twisting and pulling at the small bundle of hair she'd last braided over her shoulder.

“On second thought,” This came from the one who had spoken when she first woke up, “Maybe I spoke too soon.”

“Not the time Tristan!” Damien bit out, eyes shooting off to the side before centering back on Amara.

“Breathe Mara.” Another voice, male. Amara registered faintly that she had heard it before. “In. Out. In. Out.”

Slowly, Amara’s head stopped floating and she noticed that Damien’s tense posture relaxed as she came back to herself.

The clearing. She remembered screaming and then…

“Nothing.”

“Are you back with us Amara?” The American from the moor sounded concerned.  _ Blake! That was his name. _ She felt triumphant that she had remembered his name at all.  _ Not broken. _ She told herself, echoing Tristan’s words.

Instead of answering she sat up and turned to face him, “What happened?”

Blake opened his mouth to respond but the other voice beat him to it. “You had a bit of a breakdown, it was, like,  _ crazy _ ! I’ve never seen—”

“Tristan!” Damien cut off the high-speed rambling with a sharp rebuke, “You know what tact is, yeah?”

“You weren’t even there, Tristan.” Blake quietly admonished. “You let Abril get the drop on you in the woods, instead of, y’know watching Amara.”

Amara swiveled to her right in time to see the young teenager wince, absently brushing a bruise that raced along his hairline, “Oh gosh, sorry Amara, you know how I am, always speaking before I think.”

Amara ignored the inference that she should recognize his habits in favor of puzzling out his age and accent. With tousled dirty blond hair, fair, sun-kissed skin, a smattering of freckles across his button nose, and wide hazel eyes, everything about him gave off a screaming sense of innocence and youth. Amara imagined that was a rare quality in whatever world she had been caught up in.

“ _ ¡Venga! _ Are you actually 11 years old?” She blurted out, green eyes wide and staring. The young woman completely forgot she had been trying to analyze where he came from.

The boy blushed, both embarrassed and annoyed. He wore a light scarf around his neck and he pulled at the grey fabric in agitation. “I’m 16, Amara.” He ground out. She assumed he defended his age often.

“Ha! You don’t turn 16 for another week!” The voice came from farther behind her—just how many people were there? —it was female but not the Scottish woman from the moor.

“It’s in 5 days, Cadence! Do your research!”

“Yeah,” Amara realized the girl’s teasing held the gentle, rolling tones of the American South. It wasn’t a strong accent by any means but it was definitely there. “Okay, T.”

The space they were in jerked sharply to the right and Amara slid into Blake abruptly.

“Ember!” The young man grunted as he helped to right the two of them, “Why is Cade driving and not you?”

“Oh, calm down Blake. 17 is the legal age in Britain and, seeing as I’m over 21, this would also be legal in America.”

“But she doesn’t have a license!” Came the sharp protest.

Amara’s brain caught up with her environment as they drifted left, she was sitting in the back of a big company van, “All of the kidnapping with none of the candy? I feel gypped.” She muttered, trying not to kick herself for taking so long to notice. her brain was slowly clearing itself of the haze that had clouded it in the moor. She tucked her arms around her chest so she could pinch herself without anyone noticing.

Damien’s lips quirked up in a rough estimate of a smile, “There’s that famous Matthews snark.” He answered her wryly.

_ New fact: her last name was Matthews. _

The van took another sharp turn.

“Dame!” Tristan complained, “She’s doing it on purpose now!”

The only response was a snort from Cadence.

Damien sat there rubbing his temples.

Amara was beginning to tense up again, “But where are we going? Cause um, I was kinda joking about the van but, like, people can’t just keep hauling me places and expecting me to be okay with it. I mean, I don’t…I just—”

“Right. Ok, Amara, I need you to just, like, pause a second.” Blake took off his glasses and wiped them clean on the hem of his shirt. Amara guessed it was a nervous tick, something that let his hands fidget without being obvious.

The sudden question derailed her building stress and she stared at him critically. Blake had thick, wavy brown hair that curled just below his ears, the top was longer and jetted out over his left side, pushed forward in orderly chaos by the beanie perched on the  back of his head. The hair, however, seemed out of order with the rest of his appearance, crisp black button up and dark wash skinny jeans--did anyone involved in all this even dress like they're expecting to pull guns on people and run at super speed and fight?--with square glasses set over earnest amber eyes. Blake was the epitome of mild-mannered, Amara imagined him as the boy next door that would rush outside to help you with your groceries, just to save you that dreaded extra trip. But Amara had seen him in the moor, gripping his Beretta despite his fear, and she knew better than to just trust him because he had a kind face.

With a blink she realized she had yet to answer his question.

“I’m…not my best. I'm, um, a little anxious and I'm lowkey furious that everyone seems to just know what’s best for me  _ without asking _ .”  _ Wow, way to be both honest and passive aggressive. They’re teenagers with guns, Amara, not your therapy group. _

Damien winced before pinning her with a stare. He looked confused and a little offended, “We had to help you, Mara. If--”

Amara's eyes flared for a second. She felt her power coil in her chest, ready to strike in response to her emotions but then she paused, shoulders rolling backwards as the tension bled from her body.  _ What was that sudden impression she'd gotten? _ Shr cocked her head to the side breifly as she processed,  _ was he guilty? _

“You didn't seem very surprised by Ember's...tactics before.” Blake interjected hastily, “Did Sofra explain to you, how we’re…different?”

_ ‘Different’. There was that word again. _

“She gave me a…demonstration in the woods. After that...no I wasn't too freaked by the fire. Not saying it wasn't, uh, intense, y'know?”

“That’s true,” Tristan, who had backed away to give them space, jumped back into the conversation with a wicked smirk. “Ember gets a little  _ fired _ up sometimes.”

“Boooo!” Came Cadence’s voice from the front.

“Aye, that was pretty bad, Tris.” Ember agreed.

“ _ Anyways _ ,” Damien interrupted as he ran a hand through his hair again. Amara wished he didn’t look so stressed, it wasn’t helping her mood any. “Blake’s bringing this up because you have what are called ‘virtues’,” He paused to half-heartedly throw in air quotes. “or abilities, just like the rest of us. One of those abilities is empathy.”

“Which means,” Came Ember’s melodic voice again, “that you can experience and  _ influence _ the feelings of those around you.”

Amara blinked, “Wait…you’re saying that I’ve been broadcasting what I’ve been feeling all the time to everyone around me?” The moor came back to her. Her screaming, everyone thrown into chaos around her—she sucked in a breath and clamped down on that train of thought.

“You had a strong control of your filter before.” Blake’s voice was soft, reassuring. “Some of that control must have subconsciously stayed with you, though I can’t attest to how much emotion you are perceiving from us. We’ve only been feeling your most intense emotions but so far those have been…rough.”

“Fear, anguish, rage.” Damien ticked off matter-of-factly. “Long story short: when you panic, we panic even though our brains don’t have a rational reason to.”

Amara pretended that this little revelation didn’t freak her out a little bit. “Suckish.” She said instead, “I’ll, uh, work on that. Could we pause this—and believe me we are coming back to this whole explanation business—but I asked a question and none of you have answered.”

“We’re on the way to an airport.” Damien moved into a crouch and made his way to the front of the van, “Em, ETA please.”

“7 minutes, Dame.”

“I don’t even have ID on me, I’m still wearing these  _ Godforsaken _ , dirty, white scrubs, and you expect us to get a flight somewhere? What country are we even  _ in _ anyways?”

“Amara!” Ember’s voice was quiet but firm, “Calm yourself.”

“Sorry.” It was out of her mouth before she could think about it, Ember’s rebuke somehow made her feel like a child throwing a tantrum.  _ You have your emotions, your emotions don't have you. _ She focused on keeping her feelings contained.

“We’re in the UK.” Blake responded.

“We don’t need you to have ID if we get a private aeroplane.” Damien countered at the same time.

The UK. She should've guessed that with the amount of British and Scottish accents she'd heard. “What are you gonna do, steal a plane?” she joked.

There was a beat of silence.

“I mean, if we could, we’d put it back…” Blake moved his glasses to the top of his head, avoided eye contact with her.

“Oh my—” Amara’s hands were back in her hair, untwisting the braid and twisting the curls around her fingers.

Tristan gave her another mischievous grin, “It is,” He added nonchalantly, “in service of the greater good, so…”

Amara tried to reason out how her life could have possibly come to this point, “Do you all even  _ know _ how to fly a plane?”

Damien grinned at her, eyebrows quirked in fake bemusement. It was the first real humor she’d seen from him since she’d met him in the city, “Who says we need to know how to fly a plane?”


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

As morning broke through the plane window, all blues and oranges and sparkling pinks, Amara came to accept that no, none of them  _ needed _ to know how to fly a plane.

Instead, all the group  _ needed _ to do was steal some rich woman’s high tech private jet from a private airport that had autopilot. Blake, apparently, was a technopath which meant that he could easily gain information from and manipulate technology. He just had to  _ convince _ the plane to fly them to America.

Blake stood from the other side of the cabin where Tristan lay sprawled out on one of the plane’s couches fast asleep. The boy had spent all his energy, and then some, turning their van invisible before phasing it through the fence surrounding the back tarmac. He kept the van camouflaged as Cadence (a tall, athletic girl, Amara came to understand, with a shock of long, curly white hair, freckled mocha skin, and striking gray eyes) eased it into the back of a small hanger that held an antique prop plane. Ember wiped its interior down while Tristan passed Blake through the locked plane door.

After moving through a solid object, being invisible to the naked eye, and witnessing Blake  _ think _ a plane into obedience, Amara rationalized that nothing else could surprise her.

“Cadence can control the weather.” Blake threw out as he sat down across from her.

Amara realized she needed to stop thinking in absolutes, “When I said that I wanted to come back to the explanations I did not mean on a stolen plane at, like, 6 o’clock in the morning.”

“And,” He continued as if she hadn’t just dismissed him, “she has this thing where she can create duplicate decoys of herself. Let’s see, Ember’s got the whole pyrokinesis thing and she can absorb kinetic energy and use that as proportionate strength. That one’s pretty cool, like a new meaning on Newton’s equal and opposite reaction. Basically, you hit her, she hits back harder.” He was rambling, a meandering info dump that made her wonder if she had everyone on edge again. “Damien can copy animal abilities, animal mimicry it’s called. He’s also a,” He threw in air quotes for effect, “’pathfinder’ so it’s this crazy ability where he can touch an object recently used or handled by a person and use it to track them, it’s pretty neat, like he’s psychic. Tristan, you saw his, he’s good at stealth. Going invisible, phasing through stuff. Makes him an even better, more annoying prankster.” He smirked fondly and glanced over to Tristan splayed out on the couch before adding, “You have telekinesis.”

Amara’s lips stretched thin as she smiled, “A plane full of dangerous kids flying towards America for reasons unknown, great. And this makes you different from the  _ other  _ group of dangerous kids because?”

“Because we actually care about you, Mara. Because we’re trying to do the right thing.” Ember slipped past Cadence, who was doing some sort of yoga stretch in the aisle, to sit down next to Blake.

“My other virtue is healing, Amara.” Blake was staring at her now. “I can take a look at someone and assess what needs to be fixed. With a lot of time and energy, depending on how bad the problem is, I can do the fixing. When Damien first found you, I looked you over and I couldn’t find anything wrong. Sure, you had some bumps and bruises and minor cuts but there was no trauma, no concussion to explain why you wouldn’t recognize us. When we left you with Tristan in the forest to go help Ember you were basically 100% healthy.”

“Something happened during our last day.” Ember’s voice was cautious, “Something that made you cut and run. We were supposed to get out together but then…”

**_White halls. Being dragged kicking and screaming._ **

Amara tensed up and everyone froze as one.

“Listen, hon.” Cadence pulled out of her scorpion pose and breezed into the conversation like the plane’s tension couldn’t be cut with a knife. “We’re trying to protect you. We know we've like, forced you into joining us on our crusade but we would love it if you actually worked with us, like on purpose, y'know?”

“You don’t know why but you’re scared of Kaida.” Damien came to join the group, sitting down in the aisle and tucking his long legs criss-cross applesauce. “Sofra and Rowan and all those other kids follow her, would  _ die _ for her. We’re trying to…trying to stop them. You don’t need to understand everything that’s happened in the past couple of days to know that we’re trying to set things right.”

Amara sensed a pulse of emotion from him as he finished saying his piece and she cocked her head, it seemed this conversation was striking a nerve. ‘ _ Set things right’, what does he mean by that? _

“You’re doing the face, hon.” Cadence smiled warmly while tucking a few stray hairs back into her crown of braids.

Amara allowed an eyebrow to arch.

“It’s the I’ve-sensed-something-troubling-about-someone-here-and-I-won’t-rest-until-I’ve-picked- and-prodded-and-poked-my-way-to-the-truth face.” Damien muttered. Amara was sure he  _ hated _ that face.

“That the official name for it?”

“It is now.” Ember smiled, stood, and stretched before making her way back to Tristan’s side.

“Mmm.” Blake stood as well, “We should all get some rest.”

“I slept most of the past day.” Amara wasn’t really sure why she was protesting when she was so exhausted.

“Fun fact for you children.” The healer declared, “Being unconscious is not the same as getting a good night’s sleep.”

Cadence rolled her eyes fondly as she too stood to find a place to rest, “Yes, Dad.”

Blake blushed lightly and then turned away to glance back at Amara.

Amara shrugged and then reclined her seat, “Guess you learn something new each day.” She squirmed in her chair, childishly wishing she had something to snuggle into.  _ It’s always better to sleep with a blanket, _ she decided before startling when she felt something warm fold around her.

“Trust me,” Blake said, face schooled into mock seriousness as he tucked a throw around her, “I’m a doctor.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

There was a siren ringing through the plane. Amara imagined cartoonish klaxon bells and bright red lights flashing.  _ Danger Will Robinson! _ But then she wiped that image from her mind when it filled her with unease. Red was the color of blood.

“Blake!” Damien yelled out.

“On it!”

Metal shards whirled past the windows, probably parts of the fuselage. Thunder cracked in the distance and lightning pierced the sky. Amara was struck by how big the world was and yet here she was in the middle of a storm. Would anyone even know if this plane crashed?

“Cade? Are you doing this?” Damien looked out at the rain pounding the windows.

“No! Not every bad weather day is  _ my _ fault guys.” The young woman in question was zipping up an oversized black jacket over her pastel pink crop top and darkly patterned harem pants. She was staring out the window, eyes blazing with a silver-grey light. Amara assumed that she was trying to lessen the storm.

“Damien! They’re gonna tear us apart! Only three and a half of us can fly and one of us,” Ember gestured to herself for emphasis, “Only in short bursts.”

“Wait.” Despite the chaos around her Amara found time to feel offended. She still had her dignity after all, didn’t she? “Am I the half?”

“We’re only a few miles out from Long Island.” Blake reported through the open cockpit door. “Close enough that we won’t die at sea but also close enough that someone’s gonna notice.”

“News choppers, Search and Rescue, Police…” Cadence muttered.

Something exploded and the plane dipped lower in the sky.

“ _ Blake _ !”

“I’m not an actual pilot,  _ Damien _ ! And computers do not compensate for dead engines!”

“Tristan Thomas!” Ember yelled out, stopping just short of shaking the teen, “How are you still asleep? Get. Up!”

The blond jerked up, “Wha? What’s wrong? Why’s it loud?”

Ember grabbed a dark messenger bag Amara hadn’t noticed that was sat by Tristan’s couch before crossing to Cadence. “The plane’s under attack.” She explained calmly as she helped fit the bag over Cadence’s shoulder, the one who would be safest in the storm.

**_BOOM_ ** . 

The sound was immediate, urgent. The hatch of the plane was engulfed in flame before it ripped violently from its hinges and was flung out into the gale. The air pressure in the cabin changed drastically in seconds.

Amara and Tristan, the closest to the doorway and the only two not aware enough to brace themselves, were instantly flung from the plane.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

White hot lightning cracked across the night sky and Damien hesitated roughly two seconds before hurling himself into the abyss. The rain pelted against him, soaking him instantly. His eyes flashed bright blue as he called to mind the abilities of the gannet, a bird that hunted by dive bombing into the sea. Damien hurtled away from the plane, briefly worrying that it seemed the small jet following them hadn't been concerned with three tempting targets. He put that thought behind him and focused on figuring out where Amara and Tristan went. If Tristan had been more awake, if Amara knew how to work her powers, he’d be less concerned.

Logically, the pair of them would fly out and behind the plane so Damien oriented in that direction and flew as fast as he could back to where he thought they might have landed. When his height reached (what he hoped was) just under 100ft above sea level he pulled up briefly before descending in a rapid nosedive. He felt air inflate his chest and face (and wasn’t that just a disgusting thought? Damien was happy no one was around to watch the process) which would cushion his impact with the water. He took a deep breath before he hit and then he was under.

His eyes flashed again and then Damien was sending out sound into the turbulent water, trying to use echolocation to find either of the two. Something pinged far off to his right and he swam that way. His head broke the surface where he spit out water and took in another breath.

“Tristan!  _ Tristan!? _ Oh God help…Tristan!”

Amara’s voice carried to him on the wind and Damien submerged again, cutting as quickly as he could through the rolling waves to get to her.

He sent out more sound waves, hoping for a clue to where Tristan was. He got another ping under Amara and a little to her left: there was something big thrashing in the water.

When he got closer Damien realized that it was two people fighting. Tristan was wrestling with Abril for a knife.

Abril’s taller frame was a huge advantage and Damien witnessed her bunch up her lanky form before kicking off Tristan’s face and rising to the surface. Tristan spun lazily away from the impact before shaking his head and shooting up after her.

Damien grit his teeth and followed, breaking the water a few seconds behind Tristan. He turned towards the others only to have a wave basically slap him in the face. He coughed out the salt water and shook his head to clear his eyes, “Tristan!”

The boy was too focused on his combative water ballet with Abril to hear or acknowledge him.

Amara was further away, glancing back frequently as she swam towards the shore. They were about a mile out from New York and Damien wished he could yell at her to focus on navigating the rough sea instead of wasting energy checking on them. He needed Amara alive and she wouldn’t remain that way if she got distracted and drowned.

Abril’s powers were electrokinesis and an ability to create weapons from solid light. He assumed that the knife they had fought over was one such creation. Luckily, being in the ocean, she couldn’t use her other power on Tristan without frying herself. Damien raced forward and aimed a punch at the back of Abril’s head. The Hispanic girl turned in time to block but couldn’t keep up with both of them and the raging sea.

Damien could relate, he felt like he was doing all of this week’s cardio within 15 minutes.

Thunder beat the sky and bright blue-white lightning flashed again overhead.

“What do you hope to accomplish Damien?” She shouted over the wind and the crashing black waves. “If we keep going like this we will  _ all  _ die in this storm!”

“She’d got a point, Dame!” Tristan called out with an awkward shrug, “Perhaps we should just let her kill us.”

Damien rolled his eyes. He’d wasted too much time and energy treading water and dragging his limbs through the waves, punching and kicking and tiring himself out for nothing.

He called to mind the strength of a gorilla and let his eyes flash before he pulled back and tapped Abril across her jaw. Her face registered her panic and fear for a second before her eyes stuttered closed and she drifted sideways into the waves.

“Dame, grab her!” Tristan ordered as he turned his lithe frame towards shore.

There was a beat of silence between the two as Damien debated whether or not that was a great idea, he was probably going to have to carry Tristan to the beach—the boy was still so exhausted from his stunts at the airport, Damien couldn’t stand how pale the teen’s tan complexion had gotten—and he didn’t really feel like exerting extra energy to save a woman whose current goal in life was to kill his team.

But one thought of Tristan’s stupid puppy dog eyes and Damien was rolling his eyes again before diving down to latch on to the wayward teen’s arm. He shot out of the water with Abril in tow, pausing to scoop up Tristan at the waist before rocketing towards the shore. Time was of the essence. Like Cadence had mentioned on the plane, this area would be swimming (pardon his rather rubbish pun) in officials and rescue teams soon enough and they all needed to be gone by then.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Amara crawled from the roiling steel blue sea to lay on the gritty New York coast, “America the beautiful.” She muttered absently, wishing she could just sleep for a week.

Damien touched down 15 feet away. Though “touched down” was putting it tactfully. In reality Damien dropped his burdens unceremoniously before crashing to the ground and rolling a few good feet.

Sand flew out in every direction from the impacts and Amara found herself blinking and spitting to try and rid herself of the sand that now seemed lodged everywhere on her person. She stood, racing over to see if Damien—who had hit the beach the hardest—was alright.

He was fine, it turned out, just stunned, bruised, and winded. Amara could basically feel him gathering his innate pigheadedness just so that he could stand.

“You just fell from the freaking  _ sky _ , what is  _ wrong _ with you?”

Instead of answering, he pointed behind her as he huffed and puffed on one knee, trying to stand. When she turned, she saw that Tristan was up and moving towards them and that Abril was also staggering to her feet. Despite the pounding rain, or maybe because of it, Amara made out something dark and glittery glinting in the Spaniard’s hands.

“Tristan!” She yelled. Amara stared down at her hands and tried to remember what she had done to make the taxi rebound away from her in the city. She raced forward, leaving Damien in the sand. Amara flung out a hand as Abril fired.

Amara heard the  _ POP _ ! of the gun, watched Abril fly back into the wet sand. Lightning flashed again and then Tristan crumpled.

____________________

Cadence stopped channeling her power when the hatch to the plane flew off. Instead she reached for a chair, hooking a leg under the seat next to her as all the air rushed from the cabin. One hand latched onto the seat in front of her to brace herself while the other grasped at the messenger bag Ember had slung around her. She saw when Damien jumped after Tristan and Amara but took little note of it because Blake was fighting to remain within the cockpit of the private plane. The young man’s lean frame was wedged in the doorway leading from the cabin to the plane’s controls. The brunet’s eyes were screwed shut as he slipped further away from the safety of the cockpit.

A glance back out the window told the young woman that they were losing altitude fast but whoever Kaida had sent to deal with them wasn’t making a move on the cabin. She assumed it was because they were waiting to see who exited the burning fuselage and who went down with the plane. They needed a plan because exiting this plane would bottleneck them. The plane outside could attack them while they had no clue where to focus.  _ Amara had picked a grand old time to forget how to use her powers, _ Cadence was only a  _ little _ bit bitter,  _ her telekinesis would have done wonders for the situation. _

She locked her legs for a second and then flicked her wrist before slowly rotating it, trying to create a cross-current to buffer Blake against the vacuum.

Ember shot a look out the door before staring at the younger girl, “You thinking what I’m thinking?” The Scot yelled over the wind. “But I could do with less rain!”

Ember eyes widened a tad in exasperation but despite herself she felt a smile tug at the corner of her lips. “Y’all aware that I’m a weather witch, right? Not  _ God _ .”

Blake gave a little shriek as he slipped further from security. “Less banter! More saving!” He gritted out. “Ow!” he added when his beanie flew out the doorway , leaving his hair free to whip at his eyes.

“Oh screw this!” Ember yelled. “Grab him, fly out, catch me.” She ordered the younger woman.

Cadence nodded her understanding. She took a second to close her eyes and center herself, it wouldn’t do to let herself get all scattered in the storm. Absently she rubbed at her shoulder, her scars hurt. “Okay,” She answered as she nodded again. “Ready! Blake, let go!” Quickly she vaulted over the seat, her eyes flashed silver. Outside the fuselage lightning crackled and Cadence tried not to smirk with self-satisfaction when the small group heard someone scream in panic. The young woman grabbed Blake and together they were sucked out into the storm.

The world tilted and whirled and Cadence let out a laugh, enjoying the adrenaline and the thrill of being amongst nature’s chaos.

“I hate you!” Blake yelled over the rain, “I may throw up on you!”

Cadence laughed again, like she hadn’t just promise herself she wouldn't do this exact thing, “Sorry, sorry! But come on!” She added as she righted them, “You love me.”

She saw his face heat up and felt hers do the same when he planted a quick, soft kiss on her cheek, “You’re the best, Cade.”

Thankfully they were distracted by Ember who shot out of the plane and towards the couple, eyes shut in the world's most intense trust fall—and wow Em, for a woman going on about how the group needs to be more responsible that was cutting it kinda close.

The other plane angled in and Cadence caught a glimpse of Sofra, furious and at the controls, before Ember threw a fireball at them and Sofra juked the plane to avoid damage.

All Cadence could think for a second was how this girl had geared up to chase them across the sea but a priority for her was leather and purple contacts. Second to Kaida the only mistress Sofra served was her freaking  _ aesthetic _ .

Cadence broke eye contact to watch their plane dip lower in the sky. It was really a sight; the white body of it being engulfed in smoke and flame. 

They needed to go, like, now.

Sofra was gearing up for another pass in her smaller, lighter jet. The mounted gun blazed to life but Cadence simply dropped their altitude a few feet and watched the bullets whiz over their heads.

Behind them the plane plummeted the last few hundred yards to the sea and crashed with a massive roar.

Taking advantage of the distraction, Cadence headed towards the shore. “That was exhausting. Let’s, like, not next time, is that okay?”

Blake looked at her in concern, “Are you okay? Do you feel sick? Who am I kidding, with our luck we’ll all get sick and then look who will have to heal all of you? That’s right me and—” He cut off when Cadence leveled him with an unimpressed glare. “Right, sorry babe. That’s off topic. Seriously though, you okay?”

Cadence graced him with a tired smile. “Your nose crinkles when you’re concerned. It’s cute.”

“Please,” Came Ember’s voice on her other side. “don’t. I cannae handle this right now. Flirt when we’re not all freezing our butts off over the ocean.”

Cadence shared a look with Blake before they both shrugged. “Fair enough.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you stuck through the chapter then: thank you!!
> 
> Criticism is welcome. I'm a history teacher, not english so feel free to help me improve :D 
> 
> I will also definitely not say no to positive comments, they fuel me :P


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